


Heliopause

by meltokio



Series: Perihelion [1]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Custom Shepard (Mass Effect), F/M, Gen, I'll add the ship tag when the ship happens, Implied Kaidanmance, Infiltrator (Mass Effect), POV Multiple, Paragade (Mass Effect), Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Spacer (Mass Effect), longfic, ongoing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 05:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10870434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meltokio/pseuds/meltokio
Summary: ( n: where the solar winds meet the interstellar medium. )A companion piece to Mass Effect 2. Intermissions and deleted scenes focused primarily on character development and exploration. Bridging the gap between narrative and canon.





	1. Unity

_Tali’Zorah vas Neema_

_Adamczyk Banquet Hall, Human Embassy, Citadel_

 

It was difficult to reconcile the image of Commander Shepard as she was with the cold, still body that lay in the box on the dais. The Alliance had covered the top with their flag, crisply draped across the casket in a way that seemed to be protocol. Tali’Zorah had never given human funeral customs any thought; she’d never needed to until she found herself invited to one. A learning experience, something she might have found interesting in a melancholy way, if this particular funeral were not for one of her closest friends.

The sparse crowd still filtered in from the Presidium, scanned and approved by armed C-Sec officers. Tali had arrived early, found a spot to stand next to the first familiar face she saw. Joker had been relegated to sitting, grumpily inching his wheelchair forward and back as he made snide comments about the high-ranking officers lined up at parade rest beside the casket. Places of honor, Tali assumed. He should be there with them. But the men and women up there had many more pins and stripes than Joker did, so she reasoned it was more about the hierarchy and less about proximity to the person they mourned.

There should be a bigger audience, a gathering of appreciation and remembrance that matched what Shepard had done for them all. Tali only counted thirty-seven people in attendance, precious few of whom she knew by name. She and Joker occupied a space at the front to accommodate Joker’s handicap. Engineer Adams took a seat far away from anyone else he’d served with, in a dark corner with a grim look on his hollow face. Captain ( _Councilor_ ) Anderson looked almost as empty, eyes unfocused and trained toward the back of the room. Liara, to Tali’s great surprise, refused the invite entirely and gave no specific reason. Garrus, having disagreed ( _loudly_ ) with someone who outranked him, had been asked politely ( _and firmly_ ) to leave. Kaidan had helped bear the casket to the front of the room, looking more haggard and exhausted than she’d ever seen him. And, if the muted but tense commotion coming from the entrance was any indication, Wrex had finally arrived.

The familiar presence beside her, enormous and armored as if he were ready to wage war instead of pay respect, was a small comfort. Shepard would have been happy to see them there, her motley little team of misfits who owed their lives to her.

“Where’s the turian?” Wrex’s best estimation of a polite whisper, though with him even a question could sound like a threat.

“They kicked him out.” Tali watched that silent box through the purple tint of her mask, felt her head start to ache from withholding tears she would eventually shed. She jerked her thumb as an answer, toward the rear of the formal hall to a upper-story window.

Joker crossed his arms gingerly but with enough spite to get the point across. “Dumbass got into a shouting match with C-Sec. Something about clearance.”

“Good for him, finally making some noise.” Wrex planted both feet and rolled his shoulders. “Glad I’m not the only one around here who thinks something’s not right.”

“There should be more people.” It’d be impossible to fit every single person Shepard had ever helped in one room, but they could have made more than the minimal effort. “Where is the press coverage? Where’s the Council? She saved their lives, they should all be here.”

“There’s no press coverage because there’s no _body_ in that coffin,” Joker said, snide and sour enough for his words to sting.

Tali turned, brow furrowing behind her mask. “What?”

“The Alliance never found a body.”

“Then she could still be alive.” Wrex had the good humor to crack a smile, equal parts proud and perceptive. Smug, like he knew it all along but was only waiting for everyone else to catch up.

So he hadn’t been able to reconcile it either.

“Wrex….” Tali ventured a hand to his shoulder, at least four layers of armor and environmental regulators between them.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Anderson nodded once to the back of the room before he stepped forward and took position behind a podium. Tali spared a final glance back to the window. The glass is opaque enough to reflect, but she knew Garrus enough to expect him waiting there, watching.

“Kaidan looks terrible,” Wrex said with enough cushion between words that Tali believed he meant to be sympathetic. She couldn’t disagree. Next to the soldiers, he looked paler and sadder than all of them. She wondered how many people in the room knew why.

Anderson’s mouth set in a grim line, his face wearing every single one of his years. Humans aged so openly — all that soft, smooth skin folding in on itself after so many decades. Even their hair changed colors; the elders all ended up white or silver or gray, shades of steel and iron. Absurdly, Tali had always found that quite brave.

Now she realized she will never see Shepard’s skin pleat along the places where she smiled. She will never see Shepard with gray hair.

It took less than thirty seconds for the de-humidifier in her mask to kick in, an audible hiss that drew attention and embarrassed her. Her fingers twisted themselves in knots, an old habit she carried from when she was nar Rayya, wearing a different sash and suit.

“Shepard was…” Anderson began, eyes downcast, searching for something behind the podium, “an extraordinary woman. A soldier, a leader by example. She could be stubborn, but also loyal. She stuck to her guns, never let anything compromise her morals. She gave herself, everything she was, to the galaxy. In the end, she gave her life.”

“I don’t buy it.” An even murmur, loud enough to be overheard.

“Wrex!” A sharp reprimand, muffled behind a mask.

“I count myself lucky to have known her,” Anderson continued, oblivious to the exchange below. “I am privileged to have served beside her. So it is my…” a pause, fingers wrapped around the edge of the podium, “solemn honor to present her the Council’s Medal of Valor, for distinguished service in protecting the galactic community.”

“Too little too late.” Joker’s turn to whisper, muted behind his hand.

“Shepard was the best humanity had to offer, a paragon to aspire to.” Anderson stood a little straighter now, turned his gaze to someone in the rows at Tali’s right. “And her sacrifices will not be in vain.” It sounded like a declaration or a promise, directed to the pitiful representation the Council deigned to send.

After Anderson finished his respects several soldiers, with Kaidan Alenko at the lead, took their rehearsed places at either side of the casket and carried it back the way it came — off to some shuttle to lay Shepard ( _or not_ ) to rest. Most of the crowd funneled out after, leaving several pockets of servicemen and the still-surviving _Normandy_ crew to gather and murmur amongst themselves.

Tali’s group grew no larger, two aliens clustered around a human in a wheelchair, each hovering in spaces between confused, somber, frustrated and bitter.

Joker, by and large, was bitter. “Anderson knows this is crap. He’s got to.”

Tali felt almost desperate to change the subject. The only thing sadder than imagining Shepard’s body in a featureless aluminum box was the thought that they’d just bid farewell to nothing. “Are we the only ones here?”

“Us and hothead up in the mezzanine.” Joker lifted his chin up to where Tali had guessed Garrus kept watch. “I saw Adams for a bit but he didn’t seem to want to talk. Kaidan’s a pallbearer so he’ll be taking whatever’s in that coffin to be cremated.”

“Why aren’t you a pallbearer?” Tali asked after a brief pause, waiting for her translator to process the human term.

“They asked me to be. You know, just to be polite.” Joker’s face screwed up in a grimace, like he’d broken another bone. “They know I’d have just dropped her.” He let out a choked laugh. “Maybe I should have agreed. I could’ve let her down one more time.”

There was a minute of excruciating silence in which Tali was grateful that she could hide behind her mask. She had heard the details: Shepard lost her life getting Joker to an escape pod, pushed out into space by a pressure explosion.

And Joker had watched. And listened. The comm hadn’t cut out until her suit’s lifesigns were negative.

“Where’s Liara?” Wrex asked finally, tossing his head around the room as if he hadn’t cased the place the minute he walked in.

“No one’s heard from her.” Joker leaned on his thighs, rested his chin on both fists. “She might be taking this even harder than Alenko.”

Tali cast a glance toward the exit. “We should talk to Garrus before we go.”

“You guys go ahead.” Joker shifted in his seat and took both wheels in his hands. “I’m out.” He pulled and pushed, spun himself toward the door before throwing a casual “See you around” behind him.

Tali heard the lie in his words.

Their dysfunctional family had been pulled together against all odds, chance and luck and begrudging respect. She knew that she’d never see any of them again. Her own duties called her far from the Citadel, obligated to contribute to the Migrant Fleet after her successful Pilgrimage. The captain of the Neema had allowed her to attend Shepard’s funeral but expected her back without time for shore leave. Tali wasn’t entirely disappointed; her responsibilities were fulfilling in their own way. The Citadel had long since lost its majesty for her.

* * *

 

As expected, Garrus lingered upstairs, slouched in a prefabricated ship-terminal bench, watching an empty room. Turians were hard to read. Their facial plates were only moderately expressive, relying instead intonation and body language. This one looked nearly deflated, long limbs draped over his seat like a drunk. Tali might have ventured to call it pouting, physically, in a way his features couldn’t articulate.

“Garrus?”

“Tali.”

Wrex put his back to a wall. “Didn’t feel like joining the party downstairs?”

Garrus only shrugged. “My fellow officers and I got into a disagreement.” He didn’t look at them, only spoke at the window. “I can’t stand being lied to.”

Tali perched on an armrest beside him. Everyone had some tidbit of knowledge, a scratch of data that she so desperately wanted to string together. She might have counted herself lucky that she hadn’t been on the _Normandy_ when it went down, but now she felt out of the loop.

“The Council says it was a geth cruiser but they’re wrong.” He shook his head, canted his chin to one side as if he still could only barely keep his frustration in check. “It wasn’t anything we’ve ever seen before. Reports say its guns sliced the _Normandy_ in half.” Garrus sighed, a sharp exhalation. “Joker said Shepard got him out before she...died. He wouldn’t leave the helm but she went back for him.”

“And now he feels bad about it.” Wrex shifted against his wall, rounded armor scraping against the material.

“Shepard sacrificed everything for this place and now the Council wants us to shut up so they can keep playing pretend.” Garrus’ tone changed, less defeated and more betrayed. “Sovereign, Saren, Ilos, everything. They’re covering it up, saying Shepard was _confused_ or _misguided_.” Each word was a heinous curse, mocking the sterile words the Council’s diplomats likely used. “The official story is Saren was the only one pulling the strings. They’re saying the Reapers are something Shepard made up to cope with the stress.”

“Then we yell louder than them, maybe take a few hostages to really get the point across.” To Wrex’s credit, he seemed prepared to do just that this very moment.

Garrus shook his head again, almost expecting the suggestion. “Then they’ll say we’re crazy, too.”

“I don’t understand.” Tali stood abruptly, small and weak compared to the steel-plated former police officer and the 800 pound career mercenary at each side. But she was no less angry or justified, fists clenched and fuming in her suit. “Why would they do this? We gave them proof!”

“Because it’s easier.” Garrus’ indignant anger dropped to a heated simmer. “Happens all the time with C-Sec: someone dies because someone else didn’t do their job. It costs time, resources, dignity, things they don’t want to spare. Some human shows the great Citadel Council they’re fallible and it all falls apart. They’ll drag Shepard’s name through the dirt so long as they can control the situation.”

Wrex said shrugged massive shoulders. “Might as well have let them die.”

“We won't let them drag her through the dirt. We know the truth, we can make them see it.” Tali moved to stand between Garrus and his window, forcing him to look at her for the first time since she arrived. “Right?” She waited for his shadowed eyes to find her mask. “ _Right_?”

Garrus clenched the hand resting on the back of the couch, the armor straining and creaking as the material stretched to compensate. “Right.”

Tali looked for Wrex’s approval but saw his retreating back instead.

“Wrex?”

He raised one hand in parting. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take a shot whenever an ME2 fic starts with Shepard's funeral.


	2. Assembled

**LAZARUS PROJECT FINAL REPORT**

 

**Subject** : Claire J. Shepard

**Species** :  _ Homo sapiens sapiens _

**Sex:** Female

**Date of Birth** : 4/11/2154

**Weight** : 70.31 kg 

**Height** : 160.02 cm

**MIA** : 9/13/2183

**Project start:** 12/11/2183

**Project comple:** 10/03/2185 (78 days premature)

**Project director:**  Operative Miranda Lawson

 

_**Biological Content** _

**Cloned biological material:** 38.2%

**Temporary bioplasms:** 3.6%

**Assorted cybernetics:** 31%

**Original biological material:** 27.2% (note: heavily damaged)

 

_**“Infiltrator” classification details (research compiled by Operative Ben Tachibana)** _

  * N7 specialization (roughly 16% of ICT N7 graduates)
  * Primarily reconnaissance and investigation, special tactics and observation units. Systems Alliance deploys Infiltrators as scouts and operatives in situations that require subtlety.
  * Cybernetically-enhanced sight, cloaking armor, superior omni-tool tech (flammable gasses, mini-facturing special ammunition including but not limited to “disruptor” ammo, “cryo” ammo, etc.)
  * Main proficiency: sniper rifles, light arms, omni-tool tech weaponry and tools, decryption, hacking, sabotage.



 

_**Cybernetic additives (non-essential optimization, project lead Dr. Skyler Wade):** _

  * OCULAB enhanced ocular apparati (“Infiltration” node for enhanced perception and neurological reaction to stimuli, Alliance procurement.)
  * DIGESTIX nano-flora 
    * Affixed to lining of stomach to stimulate growth of bacteria to facilitate digestive processes.
  * Military-grade lattice shunting “Heavy skin weave”
  * Military-grade skeletal lattice
  * Military-grade skeletal medi-gel conduits
  * Intentional element zero exposure and L3x implant (note: unable to implement satisfactorily due to premature awakening)



 

**Service History Summary (compiled by Operative Helena Medeiros)**

  * Only child of Captain Hannah Shepard and Mark Carmody. Raised by mother in service.
  * Pre-service psychological evaluation passed with no evidence of prior mental illness.
  * Entered Alliance Navy at age 18.
  * Entered Interplanetary Combatives Training at age 22.
  * N7 designation earned after combat situation on Akuze (note: Cerberus involvement).
  * Post-traumatic psychological evaluation reports evidence of post-traumatic stress disorder as well as brief recurrent depression (note: at-risk for substance abuse).
  * Promoted to lieutenant commander at age 28.
  * Recommended for SPECTRE candidacy at age 28. Given SPECTRE status same year.
  * Assigned to Normandy SR-1 at age 29, under Captain David E. Anderson.
  * Given command of Normandy SR-1 at age 29, subsequently took part in the Battle of the Citadel.
  * Declared MIA in 2183.
  * Declared KIA in 2183.



(note: Lazarus Station destroyed but subject recovered. Casualties include 87% of Lazarus Cell and tampering suspect, Dr. Steven Wilson. Despite losses Lazarus Project considered a success. Subject successfully transferred to Minuteman Station.)


End file.
